


Our little vignette

by daylight_angel



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, First Time, Genderplay, Genderqueer Character, Lingerie, M/M, Other, Trap is queer and not repressed about it, genderqueer!Klinger, panty kink (aka Trap's a pervert)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23284801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daylight_angel/pseuds/daylight_angel
Summary: KLINGER: But I get my lingeriefrom Chicago.TRAPPER: And it's beautiful.HowdoesTrapper know Klinger's lingerie is beautiful?
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/"Trapper" John McIntyre
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	Our little vignette

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onekisstotakewithme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekisstotakewithme/gifts).



"There's just nothing to _do_ ," Trapper groans, throwing _Popular Mechanics_ at the wall in a fit of pique and glaring at Hawk. "All the nurses are wise to us. How'd ya get Cutler to let you near her?"

"Gentlemen don't tell," Hawk says with glee, "But luckily, I'm not a gentleman, so-"

Frank suddenly pulls the covers back on his cot, glowering.

"Pervert!" he blusters, kicking the blankets away.

"I know ya are, but what are we?" Trapper shoots back, feeling a little more juvenile than usual. 

Hawk snorts, pouring the last of the still's product into a wine bottle.

"And now there's no more booze," Trap grumbles.

“Sorry Trap.” 

“I don’t really think ya are sorry Hawkeye.” 

"Mail call!" Radar interrupts, bursting in cheerfully. 

Hawkeye's eyes bulge at the size of the mail sack slung over Radar's tiny frame.

"Did your mom mail you back that jeep?" he demands, poking at the bag. 

Radar laughs, handing a letter to Frank. "No, it's for Klinger. Guess he ordered a bunch of stuff." 

“Looks like that pervert ordered the whole store,” Frank scoffs. 

“...yes, sir,” Radar says with faint discomfort, then frowns. “Oh rats. I think I’m stuck.” 

Hawkeye erupts in hyena like laughter, but Trap can only watch Radar try to maneuver around the stove pipe for so long.

"Lemme help," he says, grabbing the bag from the back. 

“Thanks Captain.”

“I’m gonna head to the O club,” Trap calls, once they get out the door. “Don’t wait up.”

~~

"What do ya mean, all out!" he demands of Igor, standing behind the bar. 

"I'm sorry sir, but I don’t have anything to serve you," the private says, tapping the sign on the bar that says _no firewater, try Rosie’s_. "The last shipment got hijacked."

"Stupid...Radar!" The kid usually has Henry’s keys, and John really doesn’t want to walk all the way to Rosie’s. 

"Yes sir!" Radar yelps, whirling to face him. Trap notices he's flirting with the new nurse, who can't be older than twenty-two, and sighs. He can't ruin Radar's chance with a girl his own age.

"I'm heading to Rosie's, I can drop off Klinger's mail order bridal suite on the way."

"Oh, thank you!" Radar pushes the bag into his hands. "Seriously, sir, I owe you one," he says, pushing his glasses up.

"Buy her a Nehi on me," Trap jokes with a smile, clapping him on the back. 

Radar fishes out several boxes from the mail bag, piling them haphazardly in Trappers arms. 

"Jesus," John says, shifting his weight. He can barely see over the stack, and has to get Kellye to hold open the door for him before wobbling over to Klinger's tent. 

He kicks out against the door frame. "Package for a Ms. Maxwell Klinger!"

"Oh, my stuff came!" Klinger says, opening the door, his face alight. "There's this brocade silk dress in there I've been dying to try."

"Yeah, well, when I got into medical school this isn't the type of delivery my mother thought I'd be in charge of, ya know?"

"Oh yes, sorry sir, let me just grab those."

Trapper shifts the boxes into Klinger's outstretched arms, and an idea occurs. 

"Hey, Klinger, ya got a tip for your mail carrier? I'm dying for a belt." 

"Oh sure, come in." 

Klinger deposits the stack of boxes on his cot and starts rummaging through a footlocker, women's clothing flying everywhere. "Why are you droppin' these off anyway? Radar's my regular postman."

"One of us had to get lucky tonight," John mutters, removing a pair of nylons that landed on his head. "Jesus Klinger, you gettin' ready for fashion week or somethin'?" 

Klinger whirls, a devious and campy smile on his face, and Trap can't help but slowly grin, ready for whatever bullshit he's about to come up with. 

"Oh sir," he cries, clutching a bottle of booze to his chest. "It's been my dream since I was a little girl to walk the runway." 

"Uh huh," John says, amused. "And I suppose ya just _have_ to get back for...what, Christian Dior's new line?” 

"Exactly sir," Klinger says earnestly, handing him a glass. His fingers brush Trapper's, and he notices idly that they're painted red, the polish smooth, carefully tended. “The very best models come from Toledo, you know.” 

"Alright, alright, I'll bite," he says, eyes twinkling. "But you'll have to show me whatcha got."

Klinger sniffs, his expression haughty. "You aren't getting _me_ on the casting couch sir, I'm a respectable artist."

John rolls his eyes. "I'm bored Klinger, just...c'mon. Our own little fashion show, right here in Korea."

Klinger eyes the stack of boxes, a grin threatening. "One night only, the Klinger collection, starring the man and mystery himself!" 

"Alright," Trapper chuckles, settling back for the show. “This should be fun.” 

~~

Max pulls the last frock over his head and stops, catching his reflection in the makeup mirror. He can't help but smile, running a finger along the silk of the powder blue lace bra. He looks again, pleased as punch at the line of the bra against his chest, the matching panties, the garters cradling his thighs. He looks good, he thinks, the material soft against his skin. 

"Klinger, unless ya have another "look" to show me, I'm gonna head ou- _oh._ " Captain McIntyre pokes his head around the screen Max had set up, an odd expression on his face. Max barely resists the urge to clutch the dress to his chest, cover himself. _We're both guys_ , he reminds himself. _The clothes, the show, it's for a laugh._

"The matching set, huh Klinger?" Trapper jokes, slipping his hands into his pockets, "for me?"

"Had to wear something under those," Max says weakly, pointing at the pile of skirts and dresses he'd been trying on. 

Trap takes a step closer and when Max shivers, it's not from the chill of standing here in his underwear. He's not unmasculine, he’s hairy, of average height, and broad shouldered, but next to John McIntyre he feels small, delicate, even...feminine.

"Looks good on ya," Trapper says, looking Max up and down. "All that lace and," he whistles, "those garters." 

Max turns away, his face red, busies himself with the pile and when he straightens up Trap is standing so close he can feel the heat coming off his skin. 

"Sir?" he says, his mouth dry. 

Trapper hesitates, his hand hovering in the air, and then he reaches out, brushing down Max's chest. "Real pretty," he says, his eyes dark. "Ya mind if I stay?" 

Max feels the panties tighten around him, a faint heat in his belly, and his eyes go wide. "Uh," he stutters, backing up a step. "Well, no, see, I'm out of dresses." 

"That's alright," Trap says, neatly moving forward. "I was thinkin' maybe I can see ya _un_ dress, now."

Each time Max tries to put space between them Trapper follows, more of a dance than a chase, seductive and practiced, and despite his unease, not entirely unwelcome.

"Captain, I don't...I mean, sure the clothes," Max's knees hit the chair in front of his makeup mirror, making a rattling noise as it scoots away. "I mean, but uh, I don't...I'm not that way," he claims, but the words taste like a lie.

"Oh?" Trapper says, his gaze flicking down to his lips. Max’s heart starts beating out a tattoo inside his chest. "I am."

"Well," Max says, pushing lightly at Trapper's chest, "N-never would have guessed it, good for you. Have a nice night sir," but his fingers curl in Trapper's shirt, his eyes on the smooth expanse of skin exposed by the crumple of fabric, and his words trail off. "I...."

Trapper smiles, soft and predatory, and moves in close, forcing Max to sit back against the vanity, his fingers clutching at the top. 

"Captain," he whispers, looking up, feeling almost dizzy, "please."

Trapper steps the barest inch closer, so much of his skin so close to so much of Max’s. 

"Is this okay?" Trapper, no, Captain McIntyre, no, _John_ , asks softly, his fingers brushing Max's hip, his lips inches from Max's mouth. 

_No,_ screams Toledo, screams years of bar fights and lookouts and schemes. _Get away!_ says years of fear and a strict code of masculinity, but that's not all Max is. Max is also soft silk and fingers pricked with sewing needles and secret drives up to Michigan to see drag show revues. 

"Can I?" John asks, and Max surges up with his answer. 

Trapper's lips are rough, he hasn't shaved, and it's so very different from kissing girls, but so very good. 

"Not like that, huh," Trapper chuckles when they break apart, his breath hot. 

"Wasn't lying before," Max admits, sliding his hands under John's shirt. "I didn't..."

"Let yourself," Trap finishes softly, cupping Klinger's cheek. 

"Yeah."

"Well," Trapper says, leaning in for another kiss, "Ya make a pretty picture Max, and I just can't help myself around pretty things."

Max whimpers slightly, feeling vulnerable as Trapper kisses him slowly, deep and dirty and no _wonder_ none of the nurses can resist this. John pulls back long enough for Max to pull his shirt over his head and then presses in close again, slipping his tongue inside Max's mouth.

"Feeling a little one sided here," he says when he gets the chance, "You gonna take off your pants anytime soon?"

"I came here for a show," John says, kissing down Max’s jaw before biting down gently on his neck. "I'm gonna enjoy it."

He runs his hands up Max's ribs and settles over his breasts, or where they would be if the brassiere were properly filled out. "Very nice," he says, pulling the empty fabric aside to thumb over Max's nipples, rolling them between his fingers.

"Hell," Max swears, thumping his head against Trapper's shoulder. "Oh hell." 

He's never had a woman go there, but John apparently has no shame, lowering his head to suck the flesh into his mouth, teasing with his tongue.

"Oh, sir," he cries, and feels Trap chuckle. 

"Really?" he asks, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "That's what you wanna call me, right now? Didn't think ya were into that." 

Max blushes, bringing Trap back up to his mouth. "John," he says instead, "how's that?" 

"Good," Trapper growls, nipping at his lip. "Say it again."

Max pants, his chest heaving, his eyes wide, and spreads his legs wider. "John, p-please," he pleads, gripping the side of the table so hard his fingertips are white. 

"Honey," John says with a smirk, "I'm just getting started." He lowers his head again to Max's chest, paying the same rapt attention to both nipples until they're stiff and slick, Max rocking against Trapper's leg just to stay _sane_ , relieve some of the building need. 

" _Allah_ , would you just _touch_ me already," he begs.

John smirks and pulls back, his lips shiny and a bit pink. 

"You want me to touch you?" he asks, his voice all low heat. "Mouth or hands?" 

Max's lips part in shock. "You'd...? For me?"

"I'd like to," Trapper says, kneeling at his feet.

Max trembles as John runs surgeon's fingers lightly over him before pulling the panties down over his erection, trapping it against his stomach with his thumb. "Can I try somethin'?" he asks, biting his lip. 

Max can barely hear over the thunder of his heartbeat in his ears, but he nods. 

"I wanna eat ya out," he takes a deep breath and looks up through his lashes. "Pretty girl." 

"Fuck," Max groans, the words hitting something deep inside that he likes, too much. "Fuck, say that again." 

John smirks, leaning forward. "You look very pretty honey, all decked out in lace and hot for me." He presses his lips to the head of Max's cock, just a kiss but it has Max squirming. "Hot _and_ wet," he corrects, dragging his tongue through the fluid gathering at the tip. 

Max swears in Arabic, tangling his fingers in Trapper's hair. 

"I have that effect on women," John jokes, noting the way the words make Max whimper, and swirls his tongue over him, gripping the back of his thighs to keep him steady. 

"Oh," Max breathes. Trapper's tongue is velvet soft and broad as he licks, lips slick when he takes Max into his mouth, all wet heat and suction. "Oh, _oh,_ that feels so good," and what's even better is that when he looks down he sees John's head bobbing up and down framed by the soft swell of the cups of the brassiere, his curls bright against Max's furry belly. It feels right and good, like Max is really _seeing_ himself (herself?) for the first time in a long time. Trapper lets Max's cock slip out of his mouth and grins.

"Ya taste good honey," he murmurs, running his hands up Max's stomach, "so good and sweet." He sucks around the head of Max's cock, just a quick flash of heat, and Max bucks, gripping Trapper's shoulder tightly, lost to the feeling.

"You like that?" John asks, leaning back on his heels, fingers closed around Max's cock. 

"Yes," Max hisses, rocking into his fist. "Yes, please, more-"

"You wanna come for me, Max? On my tongue, clenching and tight around me, like a good girl?"

"Oh god," Max babbles, feeling tight heat rising to a crescendo, "oh, fuck, John, yes, _please_."

Trapper licks up the shaft of Max's cock, teasing, and it's too much, the world breaks away, Max's whole body shaking as he comes, streaking his belly and John's face.

"Beautiful," Trapper gasps, licking his lips as Max whimpers and shakes, "you're so beautiful."

Max sinks to the ground on trembling legs that no longer want to hold his weight, and frowns.

"What?" Trapper asks, wiping off his face with the abandoned undershirt. 

Max plucks at the stained lace, wiggling out of the garment. "This is ruined," he complains, totally deadpan. "You owe me 7 bucks."

Trapper grins, standing and stretching. "I'd say for a price like that it should come with a blowjob, but...it kinda did." 

Max’s laugh is a little manic, but sincere, and Trapper pulls him back to his feet, swaying. 

"I've got ya," he says softly, his hands steady on Max's waist. 

"I...thank you," Max says, pressing a kiss to Trapper's lips. "Suppose I should return the favor." He settles his hands over Trapper's belt, cupping the bulge he finds. 

"Oh, I'd appreciate it," John leers, and pushes him onto the cot with a bounce. "But it's your turn for a show."

He shimmies out of his pants, (sans underwear, Max notices), and smirks, standing naked with his hands on his hips.

"Okay, that's just not fair," Max says, taking in the large cock bobbing between Trapper's legs. "What am I supposed to do with _that_?" He's (mostly) joking but it's to cover his own hesitation, his own lack of experience.

"Nothing you don't want to," John says, leaning down to kiss away his fear. "I told ya, it's your turn for a show." He takes himself in hand, sighing, his fingers closed loosely. 

Max's mouth goes dry. "And you called me pretty."

He didn't think a guy could be _this_ showy while touching himself but damn if John isn't managing it, all breathy sighs, eyes hooded, angled so Max can see every single flushed inch of him. 

"Oh," John smiles, stroking his cock. "We're both very pretty, don't ya worry honey."

Max shifts, considers the weight of two grown men to one flimsy Army cot, and decides to chance it. "C'mere, wouldja?"

Trap crawls onto the cot and turns onto his side, facing Max.

"Hey," he says, leaning in for a soft kiss that turns into a groan when Max reaches between them to wrap his fingers around his cock. 

"How do you feel about a duet?" he asks, suddenly bold. 

John makes a low sound in his throat that from anyone else would be a whimper and puts his hand over Max’s, guiding their strokes in a firm rhythm. Max can feel his cock pulse against his fingertips, and relishes the low breathy noises he's drawing out of Trapper, moans that resonate in his chest. 

"Right there," John gasps, "right there, right there, oh-" and then Max is kissing him to keep him quiet, warm come streaking over his fist. 

Trap moans into his mouth, muffled, hips jerking with aftershocks, smearing more come across his thighs as Max lifts his hand up-

_He said I tasted sweet_

-and licks at the fluid, considering the taste. 

"Fuck," Trapper says, eyes wide. 

"Bitter," Max pronounces, making a face. "You should eat more fruit."

"How the hell do ya know that?"

"I have sisters, they talk," he says, wiping off his hand. "I try not to listen, but sometimes I heard them.”

Trap hums, tracing lightly over Max's ribs. "Um...do ya want me to stay?" he asks, not meeting his eye. "I can't for too long...and if ya want me to go..."

"Stay," Max says impulsively. This almost certainly won't happen again, so he might as well enjoy the afterglow. "For a bit."

"Sure," John agrees easily, and settles into Max’s bed, one arm under his head and the other slung around Max. "For a bit."

Max quickly drops off, warm and sated, waking only to the gentle press of lips against his forehead when Trapper leaves.

"Bye," he slurs without opening his eyes, burrowing further into his pillow and already missing the warmth. 

"Thanks Max," John whispers, and when Max wakes again, his tent is missing one lanky surgeon, and one pair of ruined lace panties. 

~~

"Where were you last night?" Hawkeye asks, wrinkling up his nose at the slop passing for eggs. "You know Frank can't sleep without you sawing logs."

Burns scoffs, pushing away his tray. "Nerts to you." 

Trap grunts, trying not to taste the soggy toast. "Got an invitation I couldn't refuse."

"Oh?" Hawk says, looking over at the nearby table of nurses. "Which lucky lady?"

Trapper catches sight of Klinger outside the mess tent, practically skipping to Post-OP in his nurse's uniform. He smiles, slipping his hand into his pocket to finger his lacy trophy.

"Gentlemen don't kiss and tell.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to onekisstotakewithme for betaing this for me, and for all the encouragement. <3


End file.
